


An Anthropologist's Tale

by dbw



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbw/pseuds/dbw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sentinel Too, Part 2 AU which posits that Blair didn't go to Sierra Verde after Jim and Simon. That is, SenToo Part 2 ended immediately after Blair was revived in the animal spirit "merge" scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted March 2004

**Part 1**

First and foremost, James Ellison was my friend.

Of course, Jim never believed that our friendship came first with me, but it's the truth. Sure, I'll admit that it didn't start out that way and that there were times when my enthusiasm for his sentinel abilities sidetracked my focus. However, nothing and no one was more important to me than Jim. The man, Jim, not the sentinel.

Even those times I allowed myself to be distracted were only momentary compared to the rest. Unfortunately, they always tended to occur at the worst possible times, reinforcing Jim's belief that I valued my dissertation and potential fame over our friendship. It was my latest screw up in this regard that's the cause for my ending up without a home and without my best friend. Actually, those two things are one and the same --I don't think I'll ever be at home anywhere without Jim.

It all started when I met another sentinel. Her name was Alex Barnes and she was a leggy blonde with an incredible figure and a stunning face to match. You'd think that she'd be the embodiment of every wet dream I've ever had, wouldn't you? Not only beautiful, but a sentinel -- a _female_ sentinel -- to boot.

But, there was something cold about Alex. Something that kept me at arms length with her. No matter how hard she tried to get friendly, I just couldn't warm up to the woman. That should have been my first clue right there. Deep down inside, I guess I did know that something was wrong, but I purposely ignored all of the misgivings that I felt and pushed ahead with my work with her.

In my own defense, I have to say that at the same time I started working with Alex, I was having my hands full with Jim's odd behavior. He was running hot and cold with me, sometimes in the same conversation. The night I came home and was met at the front door with a gun in my face was a prime example of how off kilter things were between us. I was worried about Jim and it blinded me to the fact that both my instinctive reaction to Alex and Jim's behavior were tied together in a way that I'd never before considered.

I really didn't try to hide Alex from Jim. I tried to tell him about her on the first night that I met her, but he didn't want to listen. Honesty forces me to admit that I didn't try very hard to discuss her with him after that, because after I'd gotten to thinking about it, I decided that he didn't necessarily have the right to know about Alex. At the time, I thought that she was just another research subject and as such she had the right to her privacy, just as did Jim.

Now, I believe that there was a whole lot more going on under the surface that none of us were prepared to deal with and that I still don't understand; there are questions that I still don't know the answers to. Too bad Burton didn't write a chapter on the behavior of a sentinel when his territory is invaded by another sentinel. Or better yet, a chapter on how to deal with a criminal sentinel. That might have been more useful.

Such wasn't my luck and I paid for it dearly -- first when that murderous bitch took my life and then again when she killed me. She took my life when Jim threw me out of the loft because of her. Drowning me in the fountain at Rainier was just the icing on the cake. I didn't particularly want to die, but it did seem anti-climactic after the emotional pain I'd just gone through with Jim.

Fortunately, I suppose, Jim had other ideas about leaving me dead. I remember seeing him leaning over me as I coughed up water and I mistook his terrified expression as a sign that he still cared. I didn't protest when the paramedics wheeled me into the ambulance, because I was sure that when I woke up in the hospital that Jim would be waiting for me. I was wrong.

Megan was the one who was sitting by my bedside when I awoke. She couldn't look me in the eyes when she told me that Jim wasn't there, that he'd left the country with Simon, hot on Alex's trail. I told her that I understood -- that catching Alex had to come first -- but we both knew that I lied. What I didn't ask was why it was more important to Jim to go outside his jurisdiction and track Alex down without any authority to do so than it was to be here for me when I woke up. I think we both knew the answer to that one. Sometimes I wish he'd left well enough alone. Why did he bring me back only to abandon me again?

I left the hospital early by checking myself out AMA. The doctors wanted to keep me there until they were sure that I didn't develop pneumonia or some other nasty ailment from my dip in the fountain, but I had to get out of there. I couldn't take another day in that place with the knowledge that Jim wouldn't be coming. I had to find a more permanent place to stay than my office or a motel room and I needed to get my life back into some kind of order.

That's where I am now, visiting dive after dive, looking for someplace that isn't too much of a dump to park my belongings and hang my hat. As far as my life goes, it's time to decide what I'm going to do next. It's obvious that Jim won't want to approve my writing about him now, so my dissertation is all but down the drain. I wish I could bring myself to care.

 

**Part 2**

I finally found an apartment and signed a month-to-month rental agreement. It isn't much -- an unfurnished studio about the size of a matchbox -- but the building is clean and the neighborhood isn't completely terrible. Its single redeeming feature is a picture window that almost has a view of the bay. And the best part is that I can afford it, at least for the next few months.

I'm lucky that it's the end of the semester, or the apartment probably wouldn't have been available. It also means that I can put off making a decision about what to do with the shambles of my academic career for a couple more months. Good thing, because every time I try to think about the dissertation I freeze up and my mind goes blank. I just don't know what I'm going to do.

Megan helped me move my stuff into the new place. Didn't take long, since it was all still in the boxes where Jim had thrown it when he tossed me out of the loft. No furniture -- the futon and everything in the little room at Jim's belong to him -- but I can camp out in my sleeping bag until I can pick something up at the second hand furniture store.

I managed to hang up most of my clothes in the single closet and put away my few cooking utensils. The rest is still in the boxes. I just can't bring myself to dig through everything right now to pull out the personal stuff to try to make this place more than just a room where I sleep. Besides, without furniture, where would I put anything? Better to just leave it be and deal with it later.

With finals over and the summer session not yet in full swing, Rainier is mostly deserted. I can't seem to stay long in my office these days; I start getting the creeps after about an hour or so. I boxed up the remaining detritus from my sentinel research and brought it back to the apartment. I don't plan to visit the campus at all this summer if I can help it and I didn't want to run the risk of someone pawing through my notes and discovering things about Jim that should be kept private.

I don't know what I'm going to do with the material I've gathered over the last few years. Part of me thinks that I should destroy it all, like I suggested that night at the PD when Gabe was shot. Another part of me clings to the hope that things can still be worked out between Jim and me. That hopeful part argues that I should save the data; box it away until I can safely bring it out and use it.

The whole thing makes me tired. I know Megan's been concerned about me and I try to put on a good front when I'm with her, but that's even more exhausting. I have to remind myself that it's only been a week since I left the hospital, because sometimes it feels like a lifetime.

Jim and Simon haven't returned yet from their chase after Alex. I keep telling myself that it's stupid to worry, they're seasoned police officers, after all. And let us not forget that Jim was an Army Ranger. Yet, I can't help myself. I consider Simon a good friend and it'd hurt like hell if something happened to him. I can't even think past the idea of Jim getting hurt or killed. Just like with the dissertation, my brain freezes each time I go there.

I worry because I know first-hand just how dangerous Alex is. I know that she doesn't have the kind of control over her senses that Jim does, but she seems more intuitively accepting of her sentinel abilities than Jim has ever been. She's unpredictable and tricky and therein lies the true danger. I'm afraid that Jim won't be able to anticipate her moves.

I shouldn't be worried about someone who unceremoniously tossed me out of his life. Naomi would blithely tell me to _detach with love_, but I've never been able to tell her that that just doesn't work for me, especially not where Jim's concerned. For better or worse, I'm bound to him, whether he lets me be part of his life or not. I guess I'll just have to get used to keeping tabs on him from a distance, as hard on my emotions as that will be, because, God help me, I don't think I'll be able to cut myself off from him completely. Not and stay sane.

 

**Part 3**

A second week spent in the new apartment and I was about to go stir crazy. I told myself that that was the real reason I was so glad to hear Megan's knock on the front door.

I hadn't talked to her in almost a week. I was avoiding the PD as religiously as I was avoiding going to Rainier. I couldn't afford a phone and I'd left the cell back at the loft; it was Jim's, after all. So, short of lurking around outside 852 Prospect like some kind of deranged stalker, I had no way of knowing whether Jim was back or not. The sooner that I knew he was home safely, the sooner that I'd be able to move on. That's all there was to my needing to know. I told myself that so many times that I was almost starting to believe it.

"Sandy? Going to let me in or shall I just stand out here in the hall while we talk?" Megan smiled slightly, but it never really reached her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Come on in." I had to stop getting lost in my thoughts or people were going to start wondering if maybe there hadn't been brain damage from the fountain despite the doctor's assurances otherwise.

"Sorry I haven't been by. The gang at the department all want to know how you are." She stood in the middle of my oh-so-spacious apartment and cocked her head. "Joel's asked about you every day. I've been hard pressed not to give him your address."

I shook my head. "I'm just not ready to see them. Maybe after awhile, but..."

"But right now it's too painful?" She shrugged. "You've got to face them sometime. Why not get it over with?"

An unexpected anger flared. "Why? They're Jim's friends. His co-workers. I'm sure they felt bad when they found me in the water. But did any of them come by the hospital and see me? No." My voice shook and that made me angrier. "You're the only one who did that, Megan. So don't tell me that I _have_ to see them. Because I don't." I turned away from the sympathy I saw on her face.

"Sandy," she said softly. "You know they wanted to come. They were all busy trying to catch Barnes. By the time they'd figured out that she'd skipped the country, you'd checked yourself out of the hospital. They would have been there for you. They'd be there for you now, if you'd let them."

I walked over to the window and looked out unseeing. The grey sky with its hint of rain made the grubby neighborhood seem even more desolate. My anger was gone as quickly as it had come, dissolved in the face of her certainty. "I just can't do it right now, okay?"

"When you're ready. I know they'll all be glad to see you. Sandy..." She hesitated and I braced myself for another lecture. "Simon and Jim are back. They returned five days ago."

I could feel my back stiffen. "Did they catch her?"

"No. They managed to retrieve the nerve gas, but Barnes got away."

I closed my eyes and let my head bow. Jim had been home for five days and I hadn't even known it. I guess I thought that somehow I'd just know. Like maybe we had some kind of bond that would warn me that he was back, that he was near. I snorted softly. Who was I kidding? That kind of stuff only happened in fairy tales and legends, not in real life.

"He thought something had happened to you when he got to the loft and none of your things were there." Her voice was curiously flat. "Good thing I was in the bullpen when he charged in like a bull in a china shop, ready to tear Cascade apart searching for you. I let him know that you'd moved out, so he could stop acting like a horse's ass."

I raised my head and leaned against the cold window pane. "I'm sure he was relieved to know that he didn't need to mount yet another Sandburg rescue."

She sighed. "He wanted your address, Sandy, but I did as you asked and didn't give it to him."

"Thank you." At that moment I wasn't sure if I was glad or not.

"You two!" Megan sounded so cross that I turned to face her. She glared at me, hands on her hips. "Jim's not talking to anyone; he's getting grimmer and grumpier every day. You're acting like the wronged heroine of some cheap romance novel, all pouting and sullen. I don't know which one of you I'd like to slap more, but you both need to grow up."

I gaped at her. "Megan--"

"Give it a rest." She shook her head. "One of you has to make the first overture. Jim seems to be retreating from everyone and he'd just as soon cut my head off as listen to me. I was hoping that I could convince you to be reasonable, but I can see that you'd rather cling to your hurt than try to get past it. I give up."

"Megan," I said and then waited until she raised her eyebrows.

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I've seemed, ah, that I was pouting and, uh, sullen?" I smiled sheepishly at her. "I'll try to be in a better mood when you're around. Just don't ask me to talk to Jim, 'cause I can't do it and it wouldn't do any good anyway."

"What d'you mean, it would do any good?"

"It's just, well, Jim obviously doesn't want me around. I don't think it would do anyone any good to try to pretend that he does." I shrugged, trying to let her know that I understood and I was all right about it. A lie, true, but I was anxious not to fight with her.

"Oh Sandy." She sighed again and looked away. "I think you're wrong. I just wish I could convince you of that." When she glanced back at me she was smiling slightly.

"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on that."

She smiled brightly, though it seemed false to me. "Well, now that I've got all of _that_ out of the way, what do you say to dinner? We could go out and get a bite, have a nice evening? On me?"

She'd struck too close for comfort with her crack about pouting and being sullen. It didn't lessen the ache in my heart, but it did make me see that I needed to at least try to live my life. So I nodded and grabbed my coat.

We had a nice meal at an inexpensive Italian restaurant that I knew about over by the campus. My pride might be okay with allowing her to pick up the tab, but I didn't want it to be a large amount. I asked her up for coffee afterwards, but she declined, saying she had to be at work early in the morning. I hope she couldn't tell that I was relieved by her answer.

The evening had pretty much wiped me out, emotionally and physically, and it wasn't even ten o'clock. All I wanted to do was crawl into my sleeping bag and crash. I trudged up the four flights of stairs to my floor. I had my head down, staring at my feet the whole way down the hall. That's the only excuse that I have for not seeing him standing there until I was only a few feet away.

I fumbled my keys out of my pocket and glanced up, expecting to see my door. Instead my gaze traveled up a familiar form until I was staring at the last person I'd thought to see standing outside my apartment.

"Jim."

 

**Part 4**

"Chief." Jim's voice was soft, the way it gets when he's really upset about something.

"How did you-- What are you doing here?" Surprise made my voice harsh and Jim looked momentarily uncertain. The expression was fleeting and if I'd blinked I would've missed it. As it was, I still wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't imagined it.

His expression hardened and that telltale muscle twitched in his cheek. A dead giveaway to anyone who knows him that he was angry and fighting with himself to keep his anger bottled up.

"You mean, how did I find you," he said.

"You obviously followed Megan." I shrugged when he raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

I sighed softly. As much as my heart wanted to believe that he'd come out of concern for me, or better yet, that he'd come to apologize and ask me to move back to the loft, I knew that was just wishful thinking. There was only one reason that I could think of that would force Jim to seek me out.

"Your senses are acting up, aren't they?" My shoulders slumped and I looked away, unwilling to subject myself to whatever anger he felt over feeling forced to have me help him with his senses. I shoved my key in the lock and opened the door, saying over my shoulder, "You might as well come in. I'm sure you'd rather the neighbors didn't get an earful of this."

I dumped my jacket on the tiny surface that served as a combination kitchen counter and breakfast bar and turned to face him. Jim, arms folded over his chest, stood in the middle of the room, glancing around him at my pathetic excuse for an apartment. His mouth was drawn in a thin line and there was a faint frown line between his brows. His disgust couldn't have been more apparent if he'd tried. I swallowed hard, fighting against a sudden desire to apologize for my poor taste in living arrangements. Of course, that thought ignited a tiny flame of anger. Who was he to pass judgement on my life, such as it was? What gave him the right?

As quickly as my anger came, it was gone. It didn't matter what he thought. All I had to do was focus on helping him with his senses and sending him away. The sooner I did that, the sooner he'd be gone. I wasn't sure which hurt worse -- having him there or knowing that he'd be leaving again.

"Well?" I leaned back against the counter and raised an eyebrow.

"Well what?"

As frustrated with Jim as I've gotten at times while trying to help him with his senses, I'd never felt the urge to punch him until that moment. God help me, if I'd thought I could get away with it, I would've decked him.

"What's been happening with your senses?"

He must have heard the frustration in my voice, because he looked slightly abashed. "My senses? Yeah. They've been acting up."

And that told me exactly nothing. "_How_ have they been acting up, Jim?" I asked with exaggerated patience.

"Hearing's been cutting in and out. Sense of touch is off. Sight, too. Hell, I guess all of 'em have been blinking on and off at times." He shrugged. "Mostly, I've just turned everything down to normal and tried to keep it there."

"What?" I blinked in surprised. This matter of fact recitation of his problems was not at all usual. In all of the time that I'd known him, Jim had never sounded so calm when something had gone wrong with his senses. He hated not being in control. Still, calm or not, he needed my help and that meant I had to ask questions that I didn't know if I wanted the answers to. "This has to be related to your chase after Alex. What happened with that, Jim?"

The frown reappeared on his face and that muscle in his cheek started twitching again. "I don't want to talk about that." He sliced his hand through the air, cutting off the start of my protest. "Here. I don't want to talk about that _here_."

"Well, where _do_ you want to talk about it?" The effort it took to step carefully through the potential verbal mine field with him was adding to the exhaustion that I already felt.

"Home," he said and then clarified, "the loft."

A lump formed in my throat and I tried to swallow past it. I shook my head. I couldn't do that. I couldn't go back there--not knowing that it wouldn't be to stay.

"You said you'd help me." His voice was curiously flat, devoid of whatever emotion he felt.

I bit my lip and stared at him. Strangely, it was that lack of emotion that convinced me--he wasn't as calm about what was happening with his senses as he'd tried to make me believe.

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I did. All right. If that's the way you want it." I glanced at the clock on the stove. The buses only ran til one in the morning, so I'd have to make sure I could catch the last one home. "There's a bus that'll take me to Prospect coming by in about 15 minutes. I'll meet you there."

"What's wrong with the Volvo?" He frowned.

"It won't start." I didn't add that I couldn't afford to have my mechanic work on it at the moment. "I've been taking public transportation. It gets me where I need to go. The bus'll only take me about 45 minutes." I grabbed my jacket and shoved my arms in the sleeves.

"Don't be stupid, Sandburg," he said, his voice rough. "You'll ride with me in the truck."

"Jim--"

"I'll bring you back when we're done," he added, as if knowing what my protest would've been. "It's the least I can do for your help."

I studied his face for a moment and then nodded and dropped my gaze. I followed him out the door, pausing only to lock it behind me. My desire to help Jim warred with my apprehension about returning to the loft under these circumstances. And yet, there seemed to be no question in my mind of refusing to help him. But was it the right thing to do for me?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sentinel Too, Part 2 AU which posits that Blair didn't go to Sierra Verde after Jim and Simon. That is, SenToo Part 2 ended immediately after Blair was revived in the animal spirit "merge" scene.

**Part 5**

The ride to the loft was made in an uncomfortable silence. At least, I was uncomfortable and, judging by the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel, it seemed Jim felt the same. I couldn't prevent the lump that formed in my throat when we pulled up in front of 852 Prospect. I felt his gaze on m e and I tried not to give anything away, but I doubt that I was successful. I never could manage to hide how I felt from Jim.

I followed him up the stairs and even though I was tired, I was thankful for once that an out of service sign was taped to the ancient elevator. I was regretting having agreed to come back there and I didn't think I could handle being cooped up with him in that tiny box for the slow trip up to the third floor without feeling the need to escape.

As it was, I dreaded walking into the loft. I hadn't been back since the night that Megan dragged me out of my office to talk some sense into Jim. The eerie sight of Jim standing watch in that empty space was etched in my memory. He'd been so far out of it that he'd barely acknowledged our presence. It's the only time I've ever felt anything akin to fear of him. And now I know that I only felt that way because I couldn't reach him, so lost was he in his senses as he searched for the threat that was out there somewhere in his city.

I shook off the chill that accompanied that thought and lifted my head. We'd reached the door without my realizing it and Jim held it open for me to enter first. His gaze was steady and I thought I saw a challenge there, but decided I was reading far more into it than existed. I stepped inside and breathed a faint sigh of relief.

Everything was back where it belonged. All of the furniture and rugs, pictures and nicknacks -- all put back to order as if they'd never been gone. The only things missing were my stuff...and me. I swallowed past that damn lump and felt my hands curl into loose fists. It took all of my will power to make myself breathe normally. The last thing I needed right then was to hyperventilate.

I jumped when the door closed and the lock turned. Even knowing that Jim's habit was to keep the front door locked at all times, it still made me uneasy and I couldn't figure out why. I just attributed it to my overall feeling that coming back to the loft was a mistake.

"Have a seat, Sandburg." Jim moved into the kitchen. "Want a beer?"

I shook my head. "Can't. I'll take some water, though." I sat in the yellow chair opposite the couches.

Jim handed me a bottled water and then slouched down on the middle of the larger couch, stretching his legs under the coffee table. He turned his beer around and around in his hands and asked, "Can't? What's that supposed to mean?"

I glanced out the windows at the night, not wanting to see his expression. "It means that I can't. My doctor has me on medication and it doesn't mix well with alcohol." When I glanced back at him I was relieved to see a frown on his face instead of pity or some other emotion.

"What kind of medication, Chief?"

"Just stuff. You know, antibiotics and shit. I can't remember what half of it's for." I shrugged. "I guess he's concerned about aftereffects from the drowning."

"Damn." It came out as a whisper and I wondered at the pain in his voice.

"Hey, it's no big deal. He said it's just a normal precaution." I didn't have a clue why I was trying to make him feel better, but it came as natural to me as breathing--maybe more so.

"Normal." His voice cracked a bit and my eyes widened as I saw his hand tighten ominously around the neck of the beer bottle.

"Uh, Jim? Let up on that poor beer, would you?" I nodded in the direction of the bottle. "I don't think it meant it, whatever it did to piss you off."

It was a weak attempt at a joke. When he went pale I realized that my words had struck a bit too close to the mark. It wasn't what I'd intended, at least not consciously, but I guess my subconscious was more than willing to play rough. He took a quick gulp of his beer, coughing as it went down wrong. At least he had some color in his face again.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that crack like it sounded." I sighed and shook my head. "Maybe we ought to just get on with this?"

I raised my eyebrows when he looked at me blankly, as if he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. What in the world was going on with him? Then I realized that that's what I'd been wondering for the last few weeks. Was I finally going to get some answers? The cynical part of me was making odds and they weren't in my favor.

"Jim," I said with as much patience as I could muster, "your senses? We need to figure out why they're causing you problems. That's why I'm here, remember?"

He blinked and finally nodded. "Right. My senses."

"You said you'd talk about what happened with Alex," I prodded. "So talk."

He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Simon and I followed her. We trailed her all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. A little village called Sierra Verde." He grimaced. "Not high on the tourist route."

"And?"

"She was two steps ahead of us the whole way, Chief. She killed her partner-- a man named Carl Hettinger. The guy was bad news, but he didn't deserve to have his neck broken. I'm guessing he was the one who masterminded the entire thing, figured out all of the details of the heist and lined up a buyer for the nerve gas. She must have decided that she didn't need a middleman any more."

"That's cold, man." I shivered slightly and wrapped my arms around myself. "Are you sure that it was Alex?"

"I'm sure," Jim replied, his voice grim. "Her scent was all over him. The local police said Hettinger broke his neck falling downstairs, but I could see and feel where her hands had been. Barnes did it, all right."

"What happened then?" I asked, trying to hurry past a mental vision of Alex snapping my neck instead of dumping me in the fountain.

"When Simon and I figured out that she was headed for Sierra Verde, we did our research. The only reason for her to be some place like that was to conclude the deal for the nerve gas. And that meant she had to be dealing with Carlos Arguillo. Weapons or drugs, he was the only player around those parts that could pay top dollar."

I tilted my head and gazed at him. The story as he'd told it so far was straight forward and made sense. What didn't make sense was why the experience would have stirred up control issues with his senses. As usual, there had to be more to it than he was telling me. I decided to let him get through the entire story and then I'd make him go back and fill in what he wasn't saying.

He drained the last of his beer and carried the empty into the kitchen to rinse out. Instead of returning to the couch, he headed for his spot by the window. It was such a familiar sight that I had to blink to clear my eyes.

How many times in the last few years had we done this? Jim at the window, silently staring out at God knew what, and me sitting behind him, attempting to coax information out of him? I didn't know, but I wasn't sure if I could do it one more time. And then Jim turned away from the window and came over to sit on the coffee table, closer to me than he'd been before.

"We persuaded the local authorities to help us catch Arguillo in the act of picking up the nerve gas." He frowned and shook his head. "There was a helicopter and a lot of automatic weapons involved and somehow, during the whole mess, Barnes managed to get away."

"How did that happen, Jim?" I raised my eyebrows. "Unless your senses were giving you trouble even then."

"Yeah. Between the helicopter and the guns and the jungle, I was having trouble keeping things under control."

"The jungle?"

"I didn't mention that we tracked her through the jungle? The rendezvous took place in a clearing a couple of days hike into the interior." He cleared his throat.

"Why would she want to set up something like that? Seems like there'd be too much that she couldn't control."

"I'm...not sure. Maybe it's the way Arguillo wanted it."

My exhaustion had caught up with me and I suddenly wondered why I was tiptoeing around. What the hell difference did it make if I ruffled Jim's feathers? What was the worst that could happen? Too late--he'd already thrown me out.

"Jim, what happened that you're not telling me?" I frowned at him and crossed my arms. "I can't help you if you don't tell me everything."

I thought he'd get angry, but instead he dropped his gaze and stared at the floor as if he couldn't meet my eyes. His confession, such as it was, felt forced from him and I wondered if he'd eventually blame me for that, too.

"I went through some weird stuff down there, Chief." He clasped his hands together and still refused to look at me. "But it didn't start there. It was happening here, before I ever knew about Barnes."

I blinked and sat back. I hadn't expected him to talk about what had happened here in Cascade. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if I was ready to hear it, whatever it was. I stared at the man sitting in front of me --really studied him as I hadn't in awhile -- and didn't like what I saw. There was real pain on his face. Not the pain of physical exertion, but mental and emotional pain. I didn't know what had caused it, but I couldn't walk away from him, no matter how much I might eventually hurt. My heart wouldn't let me.

As gently as I could, I asked him to open up to me. "Tell me, Jim." When he finally raised his head, the anguish in his eyes told me I'd made the right decision.

"I was having visions," he said, his voice so soft that I had to strain to hear him. "I was in the jungle, carrying a crossbow. There was danger, but I didn't know what it was. I heard a sound and saw an animal through the trees. The feeling of danger was so strong and I thought...I thought it was the animal. I raised the bow and let the arrow fly." He closed his eyes and his throat worked.

"What happened next?"

"When I came closer, I saw that it was a wolf. It lay on the jungle floor, the arrow sticking out of it's side. As I stared at it, it started shifting, changing -- until it turned into you." He gazed at me and his voice broke as he said, "I was the danger, Chief, and I'd killed you."

 

**Part 6**

I flinched away, pressing myself back into the chair, his words echoing in my head -- _I'd killed you._ The world, or rather my perception of it, twisted and shifted radically as I fought to understand. Could I have been so wrong? Had he really treated me as he had not because he couldn't trust me, couldn't stand the sight of me, but because he couldn't trust himself? Was it as simple as that?

No, I couldn't accept that, at least, not completely. There was more to it than just that one vision, that fear of what he _might_ do. But a voice deep inside whispered that it was still the key. I just needed to fit all of the rest of the pieces together around it.

In the meantime, I wasn't going to absolve him of his actions just because he'd unburdened himself of this one bit of his guilt. I couldn't. I wouldn't. And yet, even as I protested to myself, that little voice replied that eventually I'd forgive him. I always had and I suspected I always would.

His gaze was fixed on my face and he watched me intently. Nervous at his scrutiny, I cleared my throat. "Okay. You had a vision and thought it meant what? You know these things are usually symbolic. You didn't really think that it meant that you were literally going to kill me, did you?"

As I said those words I suddenly felt dizzy and everything got blurry, as though I had double vision. Superimposed on Jim and the loft was an image of my office and Alex standing in the doorway holding a gun. That image sharpened and became opaque, blotting out the loft, but it tilted crazily and her voice when she spoke sounded as if it were reverberating from the bottom of a well.

 

_"This is the one thing I really didn't want to do, but I can't leave you alive."_

_I opened my eyes in surprise when the bullet didn't come. Hope that there was still a chance to live made me stupid. "You could give yourself up. Turn over the nerve gas."_

_"Too late. I can't do that." I shivered when she smiled, my imagination calling up the toothy grin of a shark. "It's true what they say, you know -- a leopard really can't change her spots."_

_She motioned for me to get up and walk in front of her, out the door. I was still expecting to be shot, so I was surprised when we stopped in front of the fountain. I started to turn and face her, but never got the chance. I felt a crushing blow on the back of my head and my last thought before the darkness took me was how cold the water was on my face. _

 

The next thing I knew, I was on my back on the floor with Jim leaning over me blowing air into my lungs. I coughed and sputtered and he sat back on his heels to give my some space. When I tried to sit up, he didn't stop me. Instead, he put his arm around my shoulders and eased me into a more comfortable position. He didn't remove his arm and I could feel him trembling as I leaned against him.

"Jesus, Chief, don't _do_ that." His voice was unsteady.

"What happened?" I was embarrassed when my voice came out thin and panicky sounding.

"I don't know." His arm tightened around me. "One minute you were talking to me about my vision and what it meant and the next you pitched forward out of the chair. You stopped breathing, Blair."

I closed my eyes and sagged against him, so tired I wanted to go to sleep right then and there. "I had a flashback. Of Alex and the fountain. Falling into the water."

He made a choking noise and brought his other arm up around me, hugging me close against him. It felt so good to be held that I let myself soak it up for a moment before pushing away. His hold loosened and he stood, then helped me up until I was standing on shaky legs. He guided me over to the couch, instead of letting me sit back down on the chair.

"I think you ought to lie down for a bit." He frowned at me. "It's either that or I'm taking you to the ER."

I tried to protest, but nothing seemed to want to come out, so I took the path of least resistance and did as he asked. The next thing I knew it was morning, with sunshine streaming in through the windows. I was still on the couch, but my shoes were off and a light blanket covered me. The loft was quiet.

I sat up and looked around. Jim was nowhere to be seen. A small pile of folded clothes -- my clothes -- sat on the coffee table. I reached for the note that had been left on top of them.

 

_Chief,_

_You looked like you needed the sleep. I borrowed your keys -- hope you don't mind. I thought you might like a shower and a fresh change of clothes._

_Make some coffee and help yourself to the bagels on the counter for breakfast._

_I have to run a couple of errands, but I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere, okay?_

_Jim _

 

I frowned and stood up, looking around for my keys. They weren't with the clothes on the table and they sure as hell weren't in my pockets. The basket by the door was empty as well. I spent several minutes in a futile search of the rest of the loft, only to conclude that Jim still had them.

Why? What possible good did it do for him to keep my keys? I knew he'd done it deliberately; he didn't just forget things like that. I supposed that I could take a bus back to my building and hope that the manager was there and that he'd be willing to let me into my apartment. Two things that weren't highly likely.

Sighing, I picked up the folded clothes and headed for the bathroom. Jim had gone to all the trouble of arranging this setup, I figured the least I could do was let it play out. And I might as well be clean and full while I waited. I ignored the little voice that whispered gleefully that I really hadn't wanted to leave anyway.

 

**Part 7**

The hot shower did wonders for me, but the coffee was a godsend. Between them, they managed to blunt my anger and confusion over the fact that Jim had taken my keys without my permission and had gone to my apartment to get clean clothes for me to wear. I still couldn't fathom why. Why bother to do that, when all he had to do was let me go on my way alone? And what was up with him keeping my keys?

I was in the middle of scarfing down a cinnamon-raisin bagel when a key turned in the lock and Jim entered the loft. He smiled at me, that soft smile of his that I hadn't seen in what felt like months. I wasn't going to be lulled into thinking things were better. No matter what my treacherous heart wanted to believe, my head just wasn't that soft. I raised my eyebrows, relieved that my mouthful of bagel gave me an excuse for not talking.

"Hey, Chief. Glad you found the clothes all right." He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down across from me and placed three prescription bottles on the table between us.  "I, um, picked these up, too. Thought you might need to take them."

I frowned and reached out to pick them up. I did need to take a pill, so I popped the cap and shook one out, then swallowed it down with a mouthful of coffee. "Kind of hard to miss the clothes. By the way, can I have my keys back?" The moment the words were out of my mouth, I could've kicked myself. What the hell was I thinking -- _can I have my keys back?_ I should have demanded them back in no uncertain terms.

"Ah, well, about that." Jim stared down at his coffee as if he didn't know what to say.

My frown deepened. "Yeah?"

He glanced up at me, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry I kind of, well, absconded with your keys. I just wanted you to stay here until we had a chance to finish our talk."

I noticed that he hadn't mentioned anything about returning them. "Jim? My keys?" I held out my hand, palm open, waiting for him to drop them onto it. Instead, he rose from his chair and walked back into the kitchen. "Jim?" I must have sounded confused, because he turned around and leaned against the sink and gave me a small shrug.

"I'm sorry." He held up a hand to stop my protest. "I'll be honest. I'm afraid if I give you your keys, you'll walk out that door and I'll never get another chance."

The bagel sat like a rock in my stomach. "Another chance for what?" I shook my head. "Jim, you can't just keep me here against my will. There's a word for that, man."

He narrowed his eyes. "Christ, Chief, I'm not kidnapping you." Then he flushed and glanced away.

What in the world? "Jim? What the hell's going on here, man?"

"Just what I said. We didn't finish our talk last night and I didn't want you to leave before we had that chance."

"Don't you have to go to work?" I asked, hating the uncertain quality in my voice.

"That's one of the errands I had to run. I needed to see Simon, get the rest of the day off."

I blinked. He took the day off? Just to talk to me?

"Don't look so surprised." He raised an eyebrow. "This is important."

Another shock. Important? Me? Oh, wait. Not me -- the problem with his senses. I nodded slowly. "I know you're worried about your senses, Jim. But you didn't have to go to all this..." My voice trailed off when I couldn't come up with a polite way to describe his rather Machiavellian maneuverings.

He sounded almost amused. "All this what, Chief? You don't really think I have some nefarious plan to keep you here, do you?" He sobered immediately and added, "I just want to explain."

I sat back and watched as he wandered over to the balcony windows. I was puzzled by his actions. I'd never considered him to be devious before, so his behavior had me completely off balance. If that was his intent, it all seemed so unnecessary. Didn't he know that I'd help him? A vision of the two of us arguing in the bullpen rose unbidden before my eyes.

 

_"I've got to have a partner I can trust. Have you ever stopped to think what good all this research is doing anyway?"_

_"Yeah, Jim, I think about it every day. For one thing, it's helped you find out who you are."_

_"Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. I know who I am, okay? I don't need you or anybody else to help me define that. Is that clear? Maybe it's just better if you finish your dissertation or doctorate writing about somebody else."_

 

Maybe he really _didn't_ know if I'd be willing to help him, even though I'd already agreed. The thought sickened me and I wrapped the rest of the bagel up in my napkin and threw it into the trash. I didn't think I could take much more of this. If Jim wanted to talk, I was more than ready to get it over with.

I poured another cup of coffee and sat down on the couch. I didn't have long to wait before Jim turned from the window and gazed at me. I used to wonder when people would tell me that they never knew what Jim was thinking. I thought that I could read every expression he had, but now, seeing the closed look on his face, I wondered if that had ever been true. Even his eyes were shuttered, giving no hint of his thoughts.

I sighed and said, "You wanted to talk, Jim. So talk."

He sat on the yellow chair, reversing our positions from the previous night. "I told you about the...vision I had before I knew anything about Barnes."

I nodded, uncomfortable and unwilling to dwell on the vision for fear of a repeat of the previous night. Jim looked a bit relieved that I didn't say anything.

"Well, that's not all that was happening." He frowned. "It was all too much, Chief. Everything was crazy and I couldn't handle it. I could feel that there was a threat out there in the city somewhere, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. And then when I had that vision, I thought I was part of it."

I hesitated for a long moment before asking the question I'd wanted to ask for so long. "Jim? Why didn't you talk to me about it?"

"I wish I could say that I don't know, Chief. But that'd be a lie. And you deserve to hear the truth." He shook his head. "I hope you can believe me when I say that I only figured out what was really going on after I followed Barnes to Sierra Verde."

He must have sensed my confusion, because he held up a hand to forestall me from speaking. "I know it's going to sound crazy, but hear me out, okay?" He smiled slightly when I nodded. "Thanks. Like I said, I didn't get it myself until Sierra Verde, until I had a chance to, um, meet Barnes outside of Cascade."

I frowned. "I'm not following, man. What difference did it make where you were?"

"My head was clearer, for one thing." He put his empty coffee cup on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "See, Chief, part of what was driving me so crazy here in Cascade was that I kept sensing something wrong, not just out there--" he waved his hand vaguely toward the windows, "--but here, in our home."

I swallowed hard at the phrase _our home_. "Still not getting it."

Jim smiled slightly. "You were working with Barnes for quite awhile before you figured out that she had to be the one pulling off the robberies, right?"

The implications of what he said hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks and my eyes widened. I wasn't sure if I was more stunned by the fact that Jim was pointing out the obvious to me or the fact that I had such a huge blind spot when it came to my own role in this.

"You really hadn't thought that through, had you?" His voice, thankfully, held nothing but a mild curiosity.

"No." I shook my head. "It never even occurred to me. I've pictured myself as an observer, an outsider, for so long, I guess it's harder to change my own perception of myself than I'd like to admit. You were right all along. I got too close, too involved. I had no business writing about you." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"Don't make me into a saint just yet." He sighed. "There's plenty of blame to go around. I sure as hell didn't figure this out when it counted, now, did I?"

"Jim--"

"No, Chief. It took me going all the way to Sierra Verde to figure out that part of what had me so angry with you, so crazy, was that I kept sensing Barnes on you."

"I, um, Jim?" I raised my eyebrows. "You know that she was just a research subject, right? I mean, we weren't even good friends at any point, really. So, whatever you're thinking you sensed, well, um, it wasn't _that_."

He smiled slightly. "I know that. I just meant that I knew when you'd seen her, even if I didn't know who she was at the time. There was something disturbing about her -- about what I sensed of her -- and I kept mixing it up with you and me and my vision."

"So the time you met me at the front door with your gun?"

"I didn't even know it was you, Chief. All I could sense was her and danger."

"I'd just come from working with her." I needed a distraction, so I took our coffee cups back into the kitchen, rinsed them out and placed them in the sink. I needed to process what he'd told me, but I wasn't sure I could do that in just a few minutes.

Jim joined me in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter next to me, our arms just brushing. It felt so _normal_ that I had to fight to keep my eyes from filling. God, I wanted so badly to go back to the way things used to be between us. Before Alex, before the blow up over the dissertation. I just didn't know if we could ever get to that place again.

The silence, though, was comfortable and I let it stretch out for awhile, hoping for the first time in a long time that even though things weren't great that maybe we could still be friends. Still, there was something else that I needed to know.

I glanced up at him and asked, "What I don't get is why you didn't realize it was Alex when you met her here in Cascade. Why did it take going to Sierra Verde for you to figure this out, Jim?"

"I couldn't separate things by then, Chief. There came a point when it seemed like she was _all_ I could sense, so when I met her I couldn't distinguish the fact that she was the one that was causing my senses to go all weird. When she left, things were starting to settle down and by the time I got to Sierra Verde, I could just tell it was her."

"How?"

He surprised me by clearing his throat nervously and blushing slightly. "Ah, well, I sort of, uh, ran into her on the beach down there."

"What?" I frowned.

"I, uh, had another vision while I was down there. Only this time it was of Barnes." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I went out to the beach when I woke and she was there, just like in my vision."

"And?"

"And I sensed the same thing about her as I did in Cascade. Later, I thought about everything and realized what must have happened between us. You and me, I mean."

As I gazed at him, his jaw started to twitch. Not a good sign with Jim and I wondered just what the hell he _wasn't_ telling me. "Jim--"

"That's all there was to it."

"But why didn't you just arrest her when you found her on the beach?"

"I...couldn't." He frowned. "Look, that part isn't important. It's the other stuff that means something."

"If you say so," I said uncertainly.

"I do," he said firmly.

When I didn't question him further about it, I could see his jaw relax and I could nearly feel the tension ease from his spine. This was going to be one of those things that I'd never really know the truth about, but I guessed I could live with that.

"So, when did your senses start acting up?"

"Acting up?" He gazed at me blankly for a moment and then smiled sheepishly. "Ah. About that."

Now I could feel myself tensing. "Yeah?"

"How about we go sit down and I'll explain?"

I narrowed my eyes as I followed him to the couch. "Just what is it that you have to explain, Jim?"

He waited until I sat down next to him before replying. "Well, see, you're the one who kept insisting that my senses must be giving me problems."

I frowned and shook my head. "Huh?"

"I'm not really having trouble with my senses, Chief." He held up his hands. "I _did_ have some problems down in Sierra Verde, sure. But since I got back to Cascade, I've been fine. Of course, I really haven't needed to use them much, but still..."

"What?" I'm not sure exactly why, but I suddenly felt like I had to get out of there. I was at the door, trying to get it open, when Jim grabbed me by the arm and turned me around, gently shoving me back against the door and holding me there.

"Whoa, whoa, Chief. Hold on. Let me explain."

"Let me go." I struggled half-heartedly. I'm not stupid. Jim's a hell of a lot stronger than me and I wasn't feeling my best as it was. There was no way that I could break his grip unless he wanted to let go of me.

"Not until you promise to sit down again." His voice sounded funny.

"Why?"

He didn't pretend to misunderstand what I was asking and that went a long way towards persuading me to agree. "Because I wanted to tell you all this -- I wanted to apologize -- and when I saw you I knew you weren't going to listen to me. When you jumped to the conclusion that I must be having problems with my senses, well, I took advantage of that."

"All right."

"All right?" He gazed at me suspiciously.

"You can let go of me. I'll stay and listen."

He cautiously released my arms and stepped back, waiting until I moved away from the door and headed for the couch before following me. We sat down again and I noticed that he sat a bit closer than before, probably in an attempt to make sure that I didn't bolt again.

I couldn't deny that what he'd just said confused me as well as fueled the hope that had flared earlier. I needed to hear more before deciding what my response should be, but my heart was considerably lighter than it had been in weeks.

 

**Part 8**

Jim was silent just long enough to make me wonder if I'd misunderstood him. Still, he _had_ said that he wanted to apologize. I hadn't misheard that. In a way, he'd already essentially done just that, so what was there left to say? My doubts about everything began to creep up again and I was just about ready to suggest that we call it a day, when Jim reached out and clasped my arm.

"Chief," he said slowly, "I want to make sure I get this right. It isn't easy for me, you know."

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him, feeling a bit of my old stubbornness set in. Maybe it _was_ hard for him, but that didn't mean that I was going to let him off easy this time. Sure, I knew he was sorry, but I really wanted to hear him say it. All of it. Petty of me, I know, but I couldn't help the way I felt. I guess I made him nervous, because after a few moments he frowned and shifted his weight as if he were uncomfortable.

Finally, he sighed. "You're not gonna let me off the hook, are you?" he asked, his voice rueful. A corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I'm sure I deserve that."

I nodded, unwilling to open my mouth for fear that I'd start babbling about how I understood and that I forgave him and, oh, yeah, would he mind if I moved back in? That would've been the last thing that I should say to him and I kept my mouth clamped shut to make sure that it didn't happen.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I noted that he hadn't let go of my arm, but I wasn't sure just what that meant.

"I'm sorry, Blair." Once the initial apology was out, it was like a dam had burst somewhere inside him and the flow of words tumbled over and over in an effort to spill forth. "I should have believed in you, trusted you. I should have listened to you. You've never given me a reason to make me think that you'd deliberately betray me. I should never have pushed you away, no matter how good I thought my reason was."

"Jim--"

"I sure as hell should've realized that I needed help, your help. God, I must have been crazy! When I got back from Sierra Verde and walked into the loft to find it empty -- it was like being hit in the head with a two-by-four. I still can't believe that I did that."

"Jim--"

"I can't believe I threw you out, Chief." The torrent of words finally began to slow and I could see the pain fill his eyes as he said, "I can't believe you _died._"

"Jim!" He blinked at me, obviously startled by my shout.

"Chief?" he asked in an uncertain voice.

I shook my head and said as gently as I could, "I get it, okay? You're sorry for everything that happened. And I appreciate that. I really do. You don't need to keep going on about it."

He smiled slightly and nodded. "I just have one more thing to say and then I'm done."

"All right." I held up one finger. "But only one. I'm holding you to that."

"I want you to move back in, Chief. I know that my apologizing isn't going to set things right between us, but I'd like to think that we can make that happen together. If you're here, that is. What d'you say?"

When I didn't answer immediately I could see the worry set in. He'd just handed me exactly what I wanted, so why was I hesitating? Part of me was singing hosannas and insisting that I agree, but another, darker part of me was wondering what would happen the next time another sentinel showed up in Cascade or the next time Jim decided he couldn't trust me for whatever the reason?

I eased my arm from his grip and stood up, looking down at him for a long moment before turning and heading for the balcony windows. I stared out unseeing at the view, trying to put some order to my chaotic thoughts. I could hear the faint creak of the couch as he rose and his soft steps across the floor until he stood behind me. He was just close enough that I knew he was there, but he didn't crowd my personal space. That in itself saddened me. I was so used to there not being any boundaries between Jim and me and I wondered if it were even possible for us to get back to good.

"I don't expect it to be exactly like it was before," he said softly. "I'd like to think that we could make things better between us. It'll take time. I know that. But I think it's worth it. I think _you're_ worth it. I want you home, Chief."

That damn lump rose in my throat and I knew I was lost. "I don't know whether it'll work or not," I cautioned, "but if you're really willing to try, I'd like to come back."

He took a couple of steps until he was right behind me. "No," he corrected, "not back. _Home._ Come home, Blair."

I nodded, a jerky motion that was all that I could manage. I couldn't turn around and face him -- not with the tears that had filled my eyes. He understood, though, because his arms surrounded me and he pulled me back against his chest. I raised my hands and clutched at his forearms as if afraid to let go. And maybe that's the simple truth of it.

His head dropped down on my shoulder and he whispered, his breath hot on my neck, "Thank God."

I closed my eyes and leaned back against him. I had no illusions that repairing our friendship would be as simple as all that and I was still uneasy over the parts of the story that Jim had glossed over. Yet, I felt safe and secure and content. Let tomorrow work itself out, I thought, because today, at that moment, all was right with my world.


End file.
